


In Your Dreams

by Midnight Writer (mwc)



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bar, Cute, Dream POV, Drinking, Embarrassment, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Karaoke, M/M, Meet-Cute, Personas in real life, Pre-Relationship, Short, Short One Shot, Song: Sweater Weather (The Neighbourhood), just casual drinking since its a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwc/pseuds/Midnight%20Writer
Summary: Dream needs a little pick me up. Okay maybe a little bit more. He's just lonely and needs someone to warm his heart back up. Who knew he would find his answer at a karaoke bar?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnap - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 84





	In Your Dreams

He really hadn’t expected much, stopping into one of the first bars that caught his eye. Dream doesn’t really drink. No, really, he doesn’t. But being alone just weighs down on him a little too much. Sure, he’s got his friends, and he’s more popular than he can even comprehend. 

It’s a different kind of loneliness.

It tints his world in shades of sharp jealous green and bitter blues. Every couple feels like a personal affront, everytime his friends joke about getting a girl, or worse: flirt with him, even if it's only a joke. 

A groan tumbles in his throat as he drags himself to a small table. It’s made for two; maybe he’s got a sick sense of sadistic humor, or maybe obliviously optimistic. Maybe God will have mercy on him, drop an angel into the opposite seat.

There’s a chorus of applause, and Dream lifts his head, snapping his eyes away from the empty chair. At the back of the bar, there’s a small raised step, some of the nearby tables oriented to face it. A stage? When some swaying patron steps up, stopping by the DJ, it clicks quickly. Ah, he stumbled into a karaoke bar? His shoulders lift, half to shrug to himself, half to tuck his head into his hoodie as the drunken singer screeches through a bitter love song.

Well, it could be worse, he supposes.

He caves when a waitress asks for his order. Apparently happy hour here doesn’t just apply to early afternoon hours - it also qualifies to 3:00 am. His lucky day.

Thankfully, someone dragged off the drunk before he could finish the second chorus, and there’s a pointed lack of applause. In fact, the bell at the door jingles as they toss him out. Some younger guy hedges close to the DJ while everyone’s eyes are turned. Dream catches the man’s nerves as he takes the stage.

Swiping his long black bangs, the young man glances over his largely impassive audience. Something about his demeanor, however, catches Dream’s attention from the opposite side of the bar. Why would someone so nervous force themselves to sing karaoke? Is this a bet from friends? A quick glance around, however, seems to mean that he didn’t bring any friends along. Which also makes Dream wonder; why someone who looks to be about his age to come to the bar alone?

This is excluding the exception, of course, that Dream is doing the exact same thing. Minus the karaoke.

Still, the song starts, and it doesn’t give him much time before the first verse starts.

He tosses his bangs again, not even held back by the white bandana around his forehead, as he gasps in a breath.

The song is definitely not common, as Dream doesn’t really recognize it himself, nor does anyone around seem to be nodding along. As the verse takes off, the singer forces air into his voice, trying to stabilize his wavering tone. Dream accidentally catches his eye - being literally the only other person his age, alone, and actually paying attention to him - and a spark ignites.

Dream swallows thickly, thankful for the excuse of a drink to look away and take a relieving sip. The chorus sweeps the singer away. Inhibitions dropped, he swells into the next verse. He wouldn’t have been able to believe it was the same person. Gone is the shy kid who wasn’t even sure of his footing, here is the confident bravado of a young man willing to share his warm flame with the world.

And he’s got a nice voice. And he’s rather handsome. Shorter than himself, but there’s a little ruggedness to him that makes him seem actually natural at a bar. For some reason, the Florida local gets a waft of Southwestern vibes. He doesn’t get much more time to himself as the man turns his way again. 

With the closing of the final chords, he falls into the sultry tone, muttering against the mic as his eyelids droop. His heart skips against his will, feeling like with just one look, this man has single handedly set fire to his face.

_" It’s too cold, it’s too coooold... the holes of my sweater…" _

Instinctively, Dream tucks his own hands into his hoodie pocket. As the singer hops off the stage, Dream recenters himself. Is it desperation? The loneliness setting in and making him latch onto anything? Or was it the stranger’s fire? The way he scorched his skin and already warmed his too cold heart?

Again, he doesn’t get much preparation as the chair in front of him scrapes across the floor.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" the singer casually smirks. At Dream’s wide-eyed glance, he shrugs it off, hiding his own hands in his own bright hoodie. "I mean, my spot was taken when I... Ya know. If you mind, though, I can just-"

"No!" Dream sits up, gesturing back to the empty seat. Maybe he was a hair too desperate, but God has just answered his prayer - a rather hot young man with the voice of an angel. He tries to laugh it off anyway. "No no, go ahead. It’s, uh, it is a hassle trying to find a seat here."

With another warm smooth grin, the man takes the seat.

“You were good, by the way, Dream mentions in a bit of a rush. When the singer raises a brow, he gestures towards the stage with his drink. “What song was that?

""Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood."

With a hum, Dream nods, "I never heard it before, but it sounded nice."

His stomach drops as the singer chuckles. It sounded nice? Is that the best he could come with? No, scratch that. Why did he even say that?

He takes a slow sip of his drink, not quite able to meet this man in the eye. He’s hitting all sorts of new lows tonight and he doesn’t necessarily want a witness. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the low dark eyes from hovering on Dream. He tugs at the top of his hoodie, his drink nearly splashing as he tries to set it down gently.

"Well, does my adoring fan have a name?" Wiggling his eyebrow, he leans forward on his elbow, not bothering to flick his bangs out of his face. It frames his dark eyes well. Blinking, Dream can’t help the wheeze that squeaks out.

Dark eyebrows twist as Dream ducks his head, feigning a coughing fit. Fucking wheezing? Really Dream? Pull yourself together!

"A-adoring fan?" Dream clarifies, clearing his throat. He kinda wishes he had something other than alcohol to soothe his throat. Though it does help chase some of the lingering nerves away. That’s all he needs. Just a bit of confidence. Just enough to throw some of the teasing back.

Biting back a smirk, Dream thinks of the perfect rebuttal. 

He might be a little forward and a little cocky, but to hell with it, he likes playing with fire. "I don’t know, I’m just a fan. I think _I_ need the autograph of the angel who just sang on stage."

His flirty grin falters as the man’s dark eyes continue to stoke him, completely unfazed by the flirt.

"Hmmm, too bad. I can’t. Can’t make it out to someone if I don’t know who I’m making it out to."

Touché.

Taking another stalling sip, Dream shakes his head. Maybe it’s the fire flowing through his veins - from the flirts, the alcohol, or the singer himself - but he can’t help but bait the competitive flame he sees sparking between them. Most people would likely shirk away from the sparks, fearing a fiery explosion. But this man meets him blow for blow, both holding matches ready to set this budding flame into full fiery passion.

He tugs at the collar of his hoodie. Just when did it get so warm in the bar?

"If you want," Dream taunts, his cheesy joke rolling off his tongue like the smoothest flirt, "make it out to Dream, ‘cause I promise you’ll see me there tonight."

Finally, the singer breaks, throwing himself back in the chair as he erupts into barking laughter. A wheeze tickles his throat, but Dream keeps it to a low rumbling chuckle. As the other recovers, a waitress stops to grab his order. However, the singer waves her off, instead insisting on bringing the check to him. 

Dream blinks, so caught up in the other’s warm bubbling laugh, watching his arm clutch around his stomach - a strong arm at that, sleeve half rolled up and hoodie rising to glimpse a rather well-packed abdomen - that he misses the man’s subtle courtesy.

"Wait-" Dream calls belatedly, but the waitress is too far gone. He rounds on the singer instead. "What? Wait, no. No. You are _not_ buying my drink."

"Why not?" he chuckles. Wiping a hand across his mouth, Dream blinks as the other meets him with that same warm intense stare. His eyes are like coals, dark but full of potential, and Dream finds himself slipping each time.

Whatever response he did have sputters off into stuttering and indignant huffs. Again, the other chuckles, deftly snatching the receipt before Dream can stand to take it. As more unintelligible nonsense tumbles from his lips, the man splits the copy from the check, passing the one to the waitress and holding the copy between his fingers.

Standing to meet Dream - he was right in assessing him to be shorter, only rising to his chin - the flirty singer locks his eyes. His chin is lifted in challenge and fire boils his stomach. The intense burning between them only exponentially unfolds as he steps closer into Dream’s bubble.

There’s a smirk, and he vaguely registers his hoodie shifting before the other is turning on his heel. He only notices that the other had even touched him when feeling returns to his nervously clenched fists in his hoodie pocket. How-? 

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he catches the receipt falling. He’s quick to scoop it up. A phone number covers the space usually reserved for the receipt total, with "Sapnap" signed next to it. Reading the note underneath sets his heart racing again.

_Hope to see you in bed tonight" Dream,"_ punctuated with a swift heart.


End file.
